Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
None of that is what makes me freeze, though. It’s the expression on her white face.
Her eyes are wide and staring and her mouth is pressed tightly closed in a grimace. She is so terrified her hands are shaking. I jump to my feet and rush to her side. I take her hands in mine, ignoring the heat that flows through me when I touch her skin. Heat is just how she makes my body react. From day one. Her hands aren’t warm. They’re so cold, it’s as though she’s been outside in the dead of winter dressed in the flimsy robe.
“What’s wrong?
She just shakes her head and I give her a moment to get her words in order. I want to pull her against me and stop her from shaking, but I stop myself. I don’t trust myself. She’s nearly naked. I try to think what could have happened to scare her this badly. Has she had a phone call with bad news from home or something? That must be it. She’s only been in her room. What else could it be? I’m already making silent calculations in my head for when we can fly home. This might be for the best, because I don’t think I can take much more of being around her all day long and pretending I’m not burning up inside to fuck her.
“There was someone in my bathroom. I heard footsteps and then someone saying my name,” she blurts out. Her voice is husky with fear.
I frown. There’s no one in her room. I know that for a fact. Even to get on this land someone would have to negotiate an electric fence, then the up-to-date security system I installed five years ago. It must be those damned pipes again. I’ll have to talk to Babushka and try to convince her to allow me to update those ancient things.
“It’s just the pipes, Cindy,” I say, releasing her hands. Now that I know there is no emergency, I feel a burst of desire rip through my body.
She shakes her head. “When I thought I heard crying, I could buy the pipes theory, but I swear, you have to believe me, something in there called my name, Alex. As clear as day. And it’s icy cold in there too.”
The first thing that comes into my mind is: Petra or Anastasia are playing a cruel joke, hiding out in Cindy’s room to scare her.
“Wait here,” I say and stalk through to her room. If I find one of those little bitches in there, or any sign they’ve been there, I swear I’ll kill them. They used to be spoilt brats, but now, they’ve turned into grasping witches.
The light is still on in Cindy’s room and the duvet is pushed back. Nothing else is out of place, but I do notice the unusual chill in the air almost immediately. I go through to the bathroom and switch the light on, but the room is empty, and there’s nothing to suggest anyone has been in there.
It’s warmer in the bathroom than the main bedroom though and a quick touch on the radiator tells me the heating is working fine, but when I go back through to the bedroom and touch the heater in there, it’s stone cold. Even though the temperature during the day is nice, the nights can get surprisingly cold in this big old house. At least now I know what’s happened. I go back to my room.
“The heater in the bedroom is broken,” I say. “That’s why the pipes are being so loud. They’re trying to heat something that isn’t working.”
“But the voice …” she insists miserably and trails off.
I don’t want to make her feel stupid. “Maybe you were dreaming.”
She seems to have gotten a grip of herself while I was gone. She no longer looks so afraid, but she’s still making no move to go back to her own room. In fairness, I can’t really expect her to go back and sleep in there while it’s so cold.
“Do you want to sleep in here tonight? I’ll have one of the staff look at the heater first thing tomorrow,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says.
She heads for the door that leads to my lounge.
“Take the bed,” I say.
She stops mid-stride and turns around. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be alright on the couch.”
“Take the damned bed,” I growl, a little annoyed that she always argues with me about … everything.
As if I’m going to let her take the couch. I snatch my laptop off the bed and take a few steps away.
“Thank you,” she whispers and moves towards the bed. There is something wooden about her movements. She climbs onto the bed, but instead of getting into it, she just lays down and closes her eyes. Must be the shock of thinking she’d been visited by a ghost.